ree were occupied. There was
little heed given to her entrance, and not even a glimpse of pretty
china or a daintily-spread table could tempt the listeners' eyes or
attention from Miss Latimer and her story till the last word was
spoken, when both roused themselves with a sigh of the utmost
satisfaction.

"Oh, that was splendid!" cried Winnie eagerly. "What a nice
story-teller you make, Miss Latimer; you talk just like a book." Here
Aunt Debby, accidentally, of course, choked slightly. "I could sit and
listen to you for ever,--couldn't you, Nellie?" and Winnie appealed to
her companion for an enforcement of her statement.

"Scarcely, dear, scarcely," interrupted Aunt Judith, rising from her
chair and advancing to the tea-table; "if you were to hear my stories
often, the novelty would by-and-by wear away. But here is Aunt Debby
with the urn. Let us see what a successful tea-maker she is, and we
can talk more about stories and story-telling afterwards."

Both girls jumped up obediently, and gathering round the tempting table
the happy party proceeded to enjoy the many goodly things displayed
thereon, and kept up such a merry strain of conversation that the room
rang with laughter; and Aunt Meg, lying in her darkened chamber,
bitterly bewailed her infirmities and the seeming lack of sympathy
vouchsafed to her in her affliction.

Tea was followed by games and other interesting amusements, all of
which Winnie enjoyed immensely; and then Aunt Judith inquired if she
would like to see an old maid's den. "Nellie has never as yet been
privileged to cross its threshold," she finished laughingly, "so it
will be something new for both of you to inspect."

With that she led the way and ushered the two girls into her study.

Both stood for a few minutes silent, glancing round the pretty room so
simply and tastefully furnished; then with a little cry of delight they
sprang towards the bookcase and began to scan the contents eagerly.

"Why, I declare," cried Winnie excitedly, "here are ever so many books
like the one I have at home just now. They are all by the same author
too.--Miss Latimer," she continued, turning and speaking rapidly, "she
must be a good lady who writes those books. I have only read one of
them, entitled 'A Summer's Pleasure;' but it was beautiful, and I felt
as if I should like, oh _so much_, to talk with the author, and tell
her how earnestly I long to be good, and how I can't."

Nellie, who had t